


Happy Birthday, Brother Mine!

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Birthday Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Just on the left of canon without Eurus etc., M/M, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: It's Mycroft's birthday, and he is no fan of this. But he ends up spending a very pleasant evening.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	Happy Birthday, Brother Mine!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts).



> For the marvellous SlytherinsDragon, for reasons! :) Thanks for being such a gem, a great friend and a wonderful writer! I hope you like this little gift.

Mycroft felt his shoulders slowly relax when he had typed in his alarm code and opened his front door. At home. After a long, tedious day. A day like any other – dealing with the goldfish. Yelling at careless agents. Faking smiles for moronic politicians. A pleasant discussion with a member of the Royal Family. Business as usual. He would have completely forgotten about the date if his mother hadn’t called him. He had thanked her for her good wishes, briefly spoken to his father, and then he had returned to his chores, suppressing any thought about this horrendous day.

And now he was finished for the day, about to spend the evening alone. Which wasn’t quite that pleasant. Of course, for the most part of his adult life, he had savoured being alone. Not these days. There was one person he would have liked to see. Alas, certain person was busy. Unfortunately, most of the times, one or both of them were too busy to meet. Late conferences. Important cases. The PM, not letting him go. Nosy flatmates, unexpectedly at home for the evening. It wasn’t easy. Tonight was one of the case-nights. There had been affectionate texting during the day. But he would have liked to see him.

And when he had hung up his coat and was walking through the long hallway of his house, he got the feeling that his wish was about to be fulfilled. He wasn’t alone in the house; he could feel it. No coat at the wardrobe though. Oh no… Sherlock wouldn’t have…?

He entered the living room, fearing the worst. But it was just Sherlock, sitting on the couch, his coat draped over the armrest, who was beaming at him. “Surprise!”

Mycroft couldn’t help but look around but there was nobody hiding behind his furniture, jumping up with stupid smiles and wearing party hats.

Sherlock laughed. “You can’t really think I’m that cruel?”

Mycroft smiled sheepishly. “No. Of course not… What about your case?”

“Ah, solved it via phone. Gunther was happy.”

“Who?”

“Lestrade!”

Mycroft chuckled. “Don’t let him hear that.”

Sherlock, getting up, looked confused. “Hear what?”

“Never mind. I’m glad you are here.” Mycroft opened his arms, and a second later, he had an armful of baby brother, nuzzling his face against his neck, grabbing his arse with both hands. Mycroft caught himself purring.

“Course. Happy birthday, big brother.”

“Ah, none of that. It’s ghastly.”

Sherlock pulled back to smile at him. “Is it? Which one is it, let me see...”

“It’s the fortieth!” Mycroft hissed. Forty… That wasn’t only ghastly. It was devastating.

“Ah, don’t fret, brother dear. A man only starts to get interesting with forty.”

Mycroft smiled. “Really? Well, then you are very boring, _boy_.”

Sherlock frowned and pinched his hip. “Not a boy!”

“You are. _My_ boy.”

“That I am.” Sherlock, placated, rubbed his nose against his cheek. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Fine. Need a shower though. And a shave.”

“No problem. Go straight to the bathroom then.”

Oh no. “What is it, Sherlock? You’ve planned something?”

“Not at all.” Sherlock’s face was all unconvincing innocence.

Mycroft sighed but he knew he would play along. Except if… “There is nobody waiting...”

“No!” Sherlock interrupted him, throwing his hands in the air. “We are completely alone. Except for one special guest, but I can assure you it’s not breathing.” And when Mycroft, horrified, opened his mouth, he added, “And no, it is not a _corpse_ , either. God, you are one suspicious spoilsport!”

“Sorry,” Mycroft mumbled, feeling silly, and was pulled into a crushing embrace a moment later.

“No sorries, brother mine. Just a nice birthday evening with your lovely brother, hm?” Sherlock stroked his hair as if he was a little boy.

“Yes,” Mycroft mumbled meekly. “That sounds good.”

“See. And now go freshen up and don’t bother with clothes when you are finished.”

That definitely sounded good! Mycroft hurried to go to the bathroom to get ready for Sherlock's evil plans.

*****

“A cake?” Mycroft gaped at the monstrosity, placed on his bed stand. There was one unlit candle poking out of it.

“Yep. Sorry I didn’t put forty candles in it but I guess it would have broken then.”

Mycroft glowered at him but his eyes were betraying him. Sherlock had bought him a cake! The time of the weight jokes was over for good, naturally, but this was still the first time that his food-despising brother had done something like this. Well, it was Mycroft’s first birthday which they were spending as a couple. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

“And what about me?”

“Oh, you are even more delicious of course,” Mycroft hurried to assure him, truthfully. Sherlock wasn’t wearing a stitch. In his full naked glory, he was draped on his bed, his long, pink cock already filling out. He had shaved off all his body hair, Mycroft realised, and his throat got dry. To lick this smooth heavenliness...

Sherlock gave him a knowing look – and then he jumped out of the bed and grabbed the cake.

“No!” Mycroft protested, horrified, but then he saw Sherlock had only taken a large piece of one big slice he had cut out of the cake before.

“Don’t whine, Mycroft. We will eat the rest later in a rather classic way. We will even lit the candle and you can make a wish. But before...” He was back on the bed in an instant – and smeared the cake all over his cock and groin.

Only now Mycroft saw that he had covered the white linen with white towels. Cunning. “This is such a cliché!” he protested nonetheless. Eating cake from his lover’s body! Still his mouth was watering, and his own cock was getting plump at the prospect.

“Clichés exist for a reason,” Sherlock retorted, reasonably. “Come and lick your treat off, cake-connoisseur!”

Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle, and he gave up protesting. If Sherlock wanted him to lick crumbs and cream off his cock, well, then he would do it. “Menace,” he hissed for good measure, and Sherlock poked his tongue out at him. Oh, how much he loved this man, the only consulting detective, his remarkable little brother, burden and glory of his life.

“Shut up and feast, brother.”

“That I will.” And Mycroft joined his lovely boy and went to town.

*****

“Marzipan, too!” he groaned, lapping at Sherlock's glans. Dark chocolate! Caramel! Vanilla cream! All the treats! And beneath of them, the unique and infatuating aroma of gorgeous baby brother!

“Everything for you,” Sherlock panted, his curls hanging in his face, his pupils blown with arousal. “Had it custom-made for you.”

“Oh, you’re so good to me,” mumbled Mycroft, in the middle of cake-munching and knob-nibbling.

“Yes, told them it’s for my filthy big brother who would love to, oh, suck it, oh, off of me.”

Mycroft raised his head, aghast. “You didn’t!”

Sherlock snorted. “Of course not, silly.” He reached out to grab the rest of the slice and he rubbed it into the skin of his stomach and coated his balls with it. “More for you.”

Mycroft obediently licked and lapped to get every tiny crumb and taste his brother’s skin when everything had gone off. The smooth balls… The velvety skin of his shaft. All this soft, delicious skin. He put his tongue into Sherlock’s navel and made a noise of triumph when he snatched another morsel of marzipan.

“More?”

“Ah, you should have some, too,” Mycroft said, generously.

Sherlock grinned and grabbed the next slice. “Good that I foresaw that. Lie down, birthday boy.”

Mycroft placed himself on the bed, some pillows stuffed behind his back and neck, and watched Sherlock put the entire slice onto his hairy chest, stomach and groin. The towels looked rather ghastly but Mycroft couldn’t have cared less. He would put them away afterwards and wash them before his housekeeper made her next appearance. And he had a generous shower cubicle to take care of their sticky bodies together when this wonderful encounter was over.

For now he was happy watching Sherlock licking him clean, masturbating his generous cock with squelching noises before he, discreetly belching, took it into his mouth and started to suck it with vigour. Mycroft closed his eyes in pleasure now, enjoying Sherlock's deft mouth blowing him into heaven. There had been a time when he had thought he would go to hell for this but Sherlock had quickly convinced him that this was stupid nonsense and that everything that counted was that they both craved for this. He had happily given up all the pointless doubts. Probably Sherlock had been sitting on his lap with his cock up his arse in this moment.

“What about a birthday fuck?” Sherlock asked when he had brought him to the verge of orgasm.

Mycroft, his brain spinning, managed a nod. “Take lube,” he insisted, and Sherlock giggled.

“I could have put cake up your arse, too.”

“Would be a shame.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” But Sherlock disappeared from the bed for long enough to open the drawer and take out the small bottle, and soon he was opening Mycroft up with deft, sticky fingers, the smell of artificial cherry filling the room now. And only two minutes later, he was sinking into him, and a wide grin was spreading on Mycroft's face.

*****

Mycroft was holding on to this brother/lover for dear life, both men sweating and panting and swearing that their mother would have suffered a heart attack if she had heard them. Well…

Not caring about what Mummy would think or about how scandalous this was, Mycroft was happily enjoying the ride. And a ride it was. After going slowly for a couple of minutes to make him get adjusted to the intrusion (as it sadly had not happened for a while), Sherlock increased the pace and the depth of his strokes and eventually let Mycroft and the bed dance in his relentless rhythm.

And the birthday man enjoyed every minute of it. His fingers digging into Sherlock's shoulders, he clenched his arse and met the strokes with his hips, encouraging Sherlock to fuck him deeper and harder and better and ‘get on with it, boy’, his own cock trapped between their bodies, stimulated by rubbing against the sculpted muscles of Sherlock's plain stomach. If the towels had been messy before, they got a lot messier when both brothers came in quick succession, Mycroft's semen gluing them together when Sherlock collapsed on him, Sherlock's seed running out of his loosened, slightly sore hole when his shrivelled cock slipped out.

“We’re revolting now,” Mycroft mumbled, his fingers playing with Sherlock's curls and ears.

“Disgusting,” Sherlock confirmed, yawning.

“Have a nap, little brother. You deserve it.” They could shower and clean up later. And put the remaining cake into the fridge because he guessed that Sherlock wouldn’t want to eat more of it for the time being. And his hunger was stilled for now as well. He wouldn’t have to lit the candle to make a wish. He had everything he wished for right here...

“Mm-mm. Love you,” Sherlock said against his neck, and Mycroft's heart got all soft.

“Love you, too. Thanks for this marvellously messy surprise.”

“Anytime,” Sherlock chuckled. “Happy birthday, big brother of mine.”

“Thank you.” Every birthday was happy, spent like this. Being forty ruled. Being loved by beautiful baby brother ruled. Mycroft dozed off, his arms cradled around his priciest possession, a big smile on his face. Sherlock was smiling, too, and probably even the precious cake was smiling at the love of the two brilliant brothers Holmes.

🍰 The End 🍰


End file.
